


S.S. Lesbian. Population: FUCK THIS.

by Skyplayer



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Epilogue, F/F, Post-Canon, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyplayer/pseuds/Skyplayer
Summary: Dirk forgot a key component. Both in his robot, and his planned living arrangement.Epilogue SpoilersNot porn, but they fuck.





	S.S. Lesbian. Population: FUCK THIS.

STARDATE 4113.612B

Captains Log Number: Fuck You

You wouldn't believe the fucking day I've had.

Two minutes after waking up from my daily scheduled meditation allotment and Rose is already pestering me about "upgrades". I told her I built her body with every possible function needed for the trip, down to the tastebuds. I regrettably started building her later than planned, but after over a decade of engineering I had the basics done in under a day. Five senses and a stable core for her soul? They teach that shit in Robotics 101. Your mom could learn that shit with nothing but a soldering iron and a copy of "Windows 98 for Dummies". God damn Clippy could pop up and ask if she needed help wiring the neural impulses to the titanium tendon of her fucking pinky for all I care. I had plenty of time left over for extraneous features like toggleable blinking and bluetooth integration. Not only can she control a radio from across the room, but she could replicate the feeling of shaving her legs if she gets homesick of her body that badly.

My mistake, however. Actually scratch that, I don't make mistakes. My calculated omission, however, was overruled with "necessity" by our surprise guest. Among the top of the list of things I'd rather not have aboard my spaceship: John's widowed scalie waifu. Not as high as Rose's sarcasm or the third pair of pantaloons she "didn't burn with the iron on purpose", but pretty high fucking up there. I've tried to remain as calm as I can to the prospect of having someone aboard that I can't exert full control over at all times, but she's a bigger attention whore than even Roxy was. Naturally her and Rose hit it off as well as two snarky teenagers turned adult ultimate beings can hit it off, and nearly immediately they come across something I embarrassingly didn't plan for. I plan for every outcome. I let nothing surprise me. There's one truth however, that would never shift. A fact I can always rely on remaining constant. A fact that, when this trip was built for two, should have put an end to any problems that may arise otherwise from a long journey in a cramped lonely space. The truth being: I like men.

If all my selves were to meet, then this morning would surely be the most humiliating position any splinter of mine has ever found themselves in. In no timeline, no matter how many heads rolled or how many situations went completely fucking pear-shaped, has any Dirk ever had to endure an experience so profoundly pathetic and revolting.

I spent three hours designing a vagina.

And let me tell you, it doesn't take me three hours to make ANYTHING.

I had the prototype finished in mere minutes. It's just a fucking hole, how hard can it be. Certainly not much different from an asshole and yeah, before you ask, I've crafted and installed plenty of those. Asshole design and engineering is an artform. There's dream bubbles out there where Dirks come from the furthest timelines to compete in robot-asshole beauty pageants. Delectable pieces of mechanical ass strut down the walkway and twerk their proboscis behinds over a crowd of cheering Striders. A shockingly plush glute awes the judges and they raise their perfect 10's in the air. Dildos rain down on the stage. Every Dirk in the crowd gets a massive boner. I can design holes for things to go in. Rose, however, didn't want a hole to put things in. She wanted an excuse to give me a three hour lecture on female anatomy.

Perhaps I was blinded in the humiliation, or perhaps its my general unawareness of the emotion called friendship, or even Terezi's own narrative consciousness leaving blind spots in my omniscience, but I naively thought she was making this request for personal use. I don't even want to imagine how females do that shit, but fine, let her do whatever makes her happy. She's still my daughter, and every dad has to deal with the disturbing imagery in their head of what their daughters get up to after they successfully deflect "the talk" over to mom. There's no mom aboard this spaceship, but she's been married before. I trusted her to keep it to herself.

Rose and Terezi instantly went at each other like ravenous animals. I should have known what that troll girl was capable of after her little moment with John, but I underestimated her stamina. They're still at it. It's been 15 hours. I'm recording this log in my quarters, hunched over a very important blueprint for our upcoming mission, and all I can hear is adenoidal laughter that comes off more like the snorting of a high-pitched reptile, a variety of moans of varying intensity, and the grating noise of metal on metal, not unlike the fictional noise of a sword being unsheathed over and over. Do trolls have fucking metal dicks?

We're still a few sweeps from a comfortable distance from Earth C to even begin looking for a suitable Class-M planet. If there was a God I'd ask for mercy, beg for forgiveness. I deserve punishment for my actions, but the nigh-constant noise of my daughter fucking an alien babe is too much to bear. Time to rechristen the ship S.S. Lesbian. Population: a sex-crazed robot, a sex-crazed alien, and an incelibate gay captain. Where can a guy get some male companionship around here?


End file.
